Surviving a Stockholm Apartment Fire
From high up, inside our Stockholm attic loft apartment, my boyfriend heard screaming and glass blowing out, saw people out on the street looking up, horrified as they stared up at our building. My boyfriend couldn't make out what they were shouting.
He then heard a loud commotion in our stairwell and smelled smoke. When he carefully opened the door to see if he could escape down the staircase, his only route out, smoke billowed in on him. He quickly closed it.
Hot summer temperatures had filled our attic loft, the apartment we rent to spend summertime in Stockholm.
Earlier in the evening, wearing the lightest of layers, I’d left its sweltering heat to walk down to the basement laundry, 5-7 floors below (depending on how you count them).
A cold front was beginning to arrive.
My boyfriend opened the windows to clear the smoke and saw a fireman perched in the sky
The ladder truck perched outside the window appeared to be the only route of rescue. But, almost immediately, smoke began coming in through those windows.
So my boyfriend had to close those windows and place himself out on the back deck. But no firemen were on that side of the building, and now the smoke was coming over the roof, making it hard for him to breathe out on the deck.
He somehow found a corner hole of fresher air.
Firefighters came through our front door several times while my boyfriend was out on the deck, but he couldn't see or catch them until the last time. They were looking for people and looking for access to the apartments adjoining ours.
When they finally saw my boyfriend, they told him he could go down the stairs and out onto the street.
My boyfriend was worried about where I was (he knew I had no phone, no wallet, and he had no idea where the laundry room was, which was my fault).
The firemen reassured him that I was probably safely out on the street, as they had contained the fire.
I was in the basement, a bit scared by strange noises and smells I could not place
I thought the strange noises above were coming from someone doing chaotic maintenance in the stairwell or possibly from someone having an altercation above me. I just couldn't think of any other explanation.
So I wanted to avoid the single stairwell until it was clear.
After quite a while (waiting in the laundry room), I finally heard a change in noise and emerged from the basement, confused. There were mysterious tubes winding up the single stairwell.
Navigating around them, I eventually wandered out onto the street. I was greeted by five fire trucks and near as many ambulances, but no people. Anywhere.
I had no idea I’d missed my boyfriend and the entire building of tenants escaping, as well as all of the emergency workers fighting a fire.
While I was in the basement, nothing smelled of smoke, nothing sounded like a fire.
After a couple of hours wandering the streets
I walked and walked, unable to find anyone from our apartment building. I finally stopped, on the other side of the bridge, to just stare at what was still happening, but the emergency scene was tucked out of sight.
Because I didn't know exactly what had happened, I thought my boyfriend was still inside, but okay, just waiting for the chaos to end. The crowd gathered outside was wondering what had happened, too.
Two grandmothers came over to talk to me. They kissed my cheek, worried about what I was wearing.
That cold front was beginning to whip up some wind, so I decided to try walking back across the bridge, to our apartment. Just as I arrived, police told me I couldn’t yet go inside—then I saw my boyfriend's sweet face emerge from a crowd.
His look of worry said so much.
Red flags
During our summertime in Stockholm, each time we walked up and down the single stairwell shared by all the tenants, we witnessed little red flags (and I mean tiny) with the tenant across the hall from us.
Legally, there wasn't anything we could have done to help or fix the situation, and professionals were already actively involved. Those tiny red flags were known to everyone.
However, when we saw those red flags, we should have removed ourselves from the situation (as in, we should have changed lodging). We had an inkling about that, but we never took it more seriously because we love that location and we love our host.
Also, our neighbor who was exhibiting red flags was elderly and requiring assistance, so it didn’t seem possible that harm could occur. We neglected to think this through because harm can still come to anyone.
I ignored my gut instinct, something I know not to do. Those red flags were evidence of what was to come: escalation.
A tragedy occurred, and more near-tragedies almost occurred. Because hurt people who hurt people are a danger to themselves and to others, even if they’re elderly and requiring assistance.
So this is our breaking PSA:
trust your gut
don't force yourself to "adapt" to others who exhibit red flags
surround yourself with people who do not exhibit red flags
know the various words for "fire!" and "help!" in your host country
know how to dial emergency services in your host country
know all the potential escape routes from your lodging (and practice using them)
have a predetermined emergency meet-up spot near your lodging
bring your cell phone, credit card, and wear layers when you leave your accommodation
Because there was loss of life in that smoke
Even though the fire department swiftly swept the scene, putting out the fire faster (and cleaner) than one could imagine, there was loss of life in that smoke. Our neighbor did not survive.
It was near impossible to sleep, knowing that. Even though the firemen made us feel safe, remaining there throughout the night.
This was also the night before we were to check out. With the thick smoke sitting in our loft, layered on us, its residue sticking to our tongues, I could only try to shower and pack.
I also conducted an overdue backup of all my old SIM cards and nominated my boyfriend the official carrier of the emergency grab bag.
But, ultimately, this has reminded us how vital it is to care for (and listen to) ourselves and to others—to help prevent tragedy.